Bad Moon Rising Part 1
by tastetate
Summary: Tate and Kit get to know each other one night in Briarcliff Asylum for the Criminally Insane


"You got a pretty mouth, boy," Tate gasped, pushing Kit up against the wall. Heavy breathing; racing hands. Kit was used to being in control, but this was different. He still hadn't wrapped his head around the budding relationship with the scrawny blond kid who... looked just like him? It was strange, and although he didn't understand it, he didn't want it to stop. "All the better to suck you with," he replied with a laugh, pushing Tate right back, and onto the bed. His mouth was hungry as it met Tate's, his hands running up against his abs underneath his shirt. He struggled with Tate's belt buckle, and lifted the oversized striped caridigan over Tate's head.

Kit knew from the moment he laid eyes on the new blond cherub looking guy, who landed himself in Briarcliff for shooting up his school, something was off. He couldn't figure out why this guy looked so much like him. And even though Kit wasn't typically narcissistic, he couldn't help but be turned on by it. Tate, on the other hand, was as psychotic as they come. And while Kit was relatively normal, they brought out the passion in each other. "Ever fucked a psycho?" Tate once asked him, when they barely knew each other. "We're insane in the sack."

Kit's mouth moved lower, from Tate's mouth, to his neck, to his chest, his stomach, where he stopped, smiling as Tate squirmed with anticipation. He could see how hard Tate was through his tight acid wash jeans, his converses squirming against the bed frame. "Why don't you hurry the fuck up already-" Tate attempted to ask, but his words were cut off by Kit's mouth meeting his once again. In the midst of that effort, Kit felt Tate's fingers prying open the buttons of his blue button down, before fiddling with the button and zipper on his own jeans, until his plaid boxers were exposed.

Kit was usually the dominant one; he'd always been in charge, especially when it came to past relationships like Alma or Grace, and in no other circumstances would he even try anything else. But they were different. He was usually the one pushing their heads down, and he laughed when he realized that's what Tate was doing to him. It went both ways and they didn't mind taking turns. "Don't act like you've never sucked a dick before," Tate said through clenched teeth, his hand on top of Kit's head; his fingers entwined in his hair. Kit sank down to his knees, and leaning over the bed, pulled down Tate's boxers, exposing his erection. Kit began to go down on Tate, while Tate gripped Kit's hair, his head leaning back. "Fuuuuuuck..." he said, his eyes rolling back before Kit unexpectedly stopped.

"What the fuck, Kit-" Tate stammered, before being cut off by Kit. "It's my turn now, get on your knees," he said, standing up. He shoved Tate down with twice as much force as Tate had given Kit. He took Kit into his mouth, his hands resting on Kit's ass cheeks, with Kits own fingers yanking at Tate's blond curls. He took Kit deeper and deeper down his throat, gagging, before Kit pushed Tate off of him with so much force Tate slammed against the edge of the bed. Tate knew what was next, and even though he was still reeling from being pushed, he got on all fours on the bed.

Kit knew how to manipulate Tate into getting his way. They each went back and forth between being submissive and dominant, but he knew what role Tate liked to play at this point. He ripped off Tate's jeans, while Tate turned around to smile back at him with a shit eaten grin. 'Harder! I like it rough!' Tate shouted, knowing he was egging Kit on. Kit grabbed the small jar of Vaseline out of his nightstand and applied it to himself, teasing Tate by playing with his cock against Tate's entrance. "Kit... please..." Tate moaned, no longer cocky and arrogant, but begging for the pleasure Kit was about to oblige him with. After all, Kit was testing his own patience by hesitating. But he couldn't any longer, and he entered Tate, slowly at first, rocking his hips back and forth at such a slow pace at first that Tate didn't realize he was moving.

He moved a bit faster, each thrust going in as deep as Tate's body would let him, Tate crying out at how electrifying it felt. "God... Kit... Fuck..." Tate stammered, but Kit was silent, pushing his pelvis back and forth with a hard pumping motion. Tate had his own dick in his hand, gasping for air. He'd been in relationships before himself, and he'd never felt anything as intense as it was with Kit. He'd even taken a girl's virginity before, and it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. He felt Kit thrusting inside him, deeper and deeper, "HARDER" he shouted, before Kit reached around, and pulling him up, slammed a hand over his mouth. "Shut up, - Tate, - do you want - to be - caught? Do you want - your balls - cut off?" he tried to say, his words being cut off by the enthusiam of his thrusts. Tate attempted to respond, but, with his mouth covered, only managed to mumble what souned like "nooommmhm-mmmmm-mmm."

"Fuck, you're so tight," Kit said, his voice softer now, his strength weakening. He was almost there, and he could tell by the way Tate's body was squirming that he was close as well. Tate clutched the metal footboard of the bed frame, anything to keep him from losing it. Kit continued to pump into Tate, his pace which began to falter, started speeding up once more, for one final flurry before release. With the final thrust, they both saw stars, as Kit pulled out, relieving his load on Tate's back, before collapsing on the bed beside him. "Fuck, doll, you're amazing," Kit said in a whisper, before pulling the covers up over himself and Tate, Tate curling up beside him as the little spoon.


End file.
